


The Secret of the Whole

by lauren3210



Series: A Soul's Inheritance [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate universe AU, Companion Piece, First Time, Fluff, M/M, a lot of fluff, as in a different AU timeline, it sounds confusing but it isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1943646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauren3210/pseuds/lauren3210
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots in time as Harry and Draco grow up in a world without Voldemort, moving from enemies to lovers. A companion piece to <em>Life is a Twice Written Scroll</em>, for those that liked the last timeline in that story and wanted to see more of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret of the Whole

**Author's Note:**

> I recently wrote a few fics for the H/D Smoochfest Comm, and it was my first time writing for this pairing, despite shipping this couple for so many years. And I was completely overwhelmed with all the lovely comments I received, and the welcome into the fandom I got; everybody was so lovely. One of the stories I wrote was _Life is a Twice Written Scroll_ , and somehow, during the course of writing, I managed to end the story with a completely different timeline than the one we got in the HP books. It basically amounted to a non-Voldemort AU. So this is pretty much the scenes from this last timeline that I saw Draco remembering, which I wrote as a sort of present for **capitu** , because she recced my story, and for all the commenters who left such lovely reviews. You don’t _have_ to read that story to understand this one, although you might find yourself curious as to how the creation of this world occurred (spoiler: magic was involved!), and the last scene might be a little confusing, because it was a scene I eventually cut from the original story.
> 
> Title taken from the Poem _Hélas_ , by Oscar Wilde

Draco stood quietly beside his parents as students and their families trickled through the gate at Platform Nine and Three Quarters. They’d been early to arrive, Draco hounding his parents to eat their breakfast quickly so that he wouldn’t be late. His father had glared at him and reminded him that a Malfoy was _never_ in a rush, but Draco hadn’t cared, too eager to get to school and do as much magic as he could. He was _eleven_ for Merlin’s sake, it was way past time he stopped stealing his mother’s wand to play with and held one of his very own, one that had chosen _him_. His right hand drifted towards his left sleeve, eager to feel the strip of wood beneath his fingers again, but his mother caught his eye and frowned delicately. Right. It wasn’t the done thing to keep fingering your wand in public. People might think he was nervous, and a Malfoy was _never_ nervous.

“Wonderful, the riff raff have arrived.”

Draco looked up and followed the direction of his father’s sneer. At the other end of the platform a small family stood, a boy and his father wrestling with a huge trunk as the redheaded mother looked on and laughed. Draco frowned. He recognised the parents from photographs in the _Prophet_ that his father had mumbled angrily at, his mother leaning over his shoulder and sniffing disdainfully. Draco knew that James Potter and his wife were the reason he would begin studying muggles this year, now that the Muggle Studies Law had been passed. Lucius Malfoy had spearheaded the campaign against such an atrocity, which had unfortunately produced little effect. Narcissa had tried in vain to stop the muggleborn Lily Potter from invading her Charity Ball social circle, but the witch had managed to firmly entrench herself in the hearts of all those doddery old ladies. It seemed that no matter what the Malfoys did, the Potters and their rabble of Gryffindor friends were here to stay.

Draco watched as the boy and his father finally managed to hoist his trunk onto the train and stagger back onto the platform, just as a massive shaggy black dog bounded through the barrier. The air around the mutt shimmered for a second, and then a man took its place, shaking his wavy brown hair back over his shoulder. The boy laughed and launched himself at the man, as Lily Potter rolled her eyes and her husband slapped the newcomer on the back.

“He always was a show off, my cousin,” Narcissa sniffed, and turned her back on the display.

The whistle blew a few moments later, and Draco leaned up so that his mother could kiss his cheek and let his father clap his hand on his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Lily Potter grabbed her son and pulled him into a tight hug, before James Potter ruffled the boy’s already wild hair and the dog-man picked him up in a bear hug, the boy laughing all the while. And if, as Draco stepped onto the train and waved sedately at his parents as the Hogwarts Express pulled away from the platform, he felt a twinge of jealousy over the public display of affection, then nobody else needed to know.

 

* * *

 

_You can always tell the muggleborns from wizarding children by the way they react to their first riding lesson._ This was something that Lucius had informed Draco of almost the moment he had received his Hogwarts letter, concerned that Draco associate himself with the right sort from the moment he stepped inside the huge castle grounds. _Ever since the War that Never Was, Slytherin has no longer been the pureblood sanctuary it once was. Be sure to pick your friends wisely, Draco._

And, looking around at the rest of the First Years lined up beside him, Draco couldn’t help but see that his father was right. The children that had been born in their world fidgeted where they stood by their brooms, waiting for the moment Madam Hooch blew her whistle so that they could get up in the air and start flying. The rest of them stood almost frozen, their faces pale and wary, as if wondering how a stick of wood could possibly hold their weight in the air. Muggle Studies was really a waste of time; there should be Wizarding Studies instead, so that these people could learn to trust the magic they had been gifted with. It was a complaint that Draco had heard his father utter enough times to be able to loudly proclaim it in the middle of the Slytherin common room. He thought about saying it again now; the timing seemed appropriate.

Before he could open his mouth however, Neville Longbottom suddenly rose from the ground, his round face becoming paler and paler with every inch he lifted. Longbottom seemed to be the exception that proved his father’s rule, because Draco could simply not understand how the boy could be a pureblood; he seemed perpetually afraid of everything magical. Draco watched with the rest of the Slytherins and Gryffindors as Longbottom rose ever higher, despite Madam Hooch’s demands that he come back down immediately. Draco didn’t think she meant for him to slide sideways off the broom and fall in order to comply with her request, but nevertheless a second later a loud crack rent the air as the boy landed hard on the ground.

Draco rolled his eyes as the Gryffindors drew in a collective gasp, and Madam Hooch ran forward to the pile of crumpled boy. He was bored; he wanted to fly. Draco looked grumpily down at the brooms littering the floor as the rest of the class listened to Madam Hooch hissing out instructions for them to follow while she escorted Longbottom to the hospital wing. Draco wasn’t listening; instead he smiled as he saw something laying innocuously in the grass. He held himself still until the tails of Madam Hooch’s robes whipped around the corner and then he pounced, picking up the finely spun glass ball and tossing it lightly in the air. He showed it to his Slytherin friends, who laughed along with him; they too had seen Longbottom with it in the Great Hall at breakfast that morning.

“Give that here, Malfoy,” came a voice, and Draco’s smirk pulled wider. He’d been waiting for a chance to see Harry Potter on a broom ever since he’d noticed James Potter’s Quidditch trophy.

“Why should I, Potter?”

“Er, because it’s not yours?” Harry Potter, Defender of the Weak.

Draco rolled his eyes. “How about I just leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find?” He grabbed his broom and mounted, calling over his shoulder to Potter. “Like maybe the roof?” He kicked off from the ground and couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face as the wind brushed his skin. It had been too long since he’d been on a broom; he hated the rule that First Years weren’t allowed to bring their own.

He could hear an argument going on on the ground below him, so he turned in the air to look down. Potter had his broom in his hand and seemed to be arguing with the bushy haired girl in Gryffindor House. Draco opened his mouth, about to shout down a taunt that he knew Potter wouldn’t be able to resist rising to, but then Potter shook his head angrily and mounted his broom... _at the same time as kicking off_. Draco felt his jaw drop as Potter wrapped his legs around the broom as he flew into the air, heading straight for him. Draco snapped his mouth closed and clenched his jaw. _Bloody Potter_. Everyone knew that an in-air mount was a difficult thing to do; trust Potter to show off in front of Draco and his friends.

“Give it here, Malfoy, or I’ll knock you off your broom,” Potter yelled over the wind.

Draco scowled and flipped the remembrall into his right hand, ready to throw it as far as he could. He had hoped that Potter would be terrible on a broom, or at least just passable; it wasn’t remotely fun now that he knew just how well he could fly. It seemed all those stories he’d overheard about Potter getting to practise with his father’s old team weren’t exaggerations after all.

“Fine then, Potter. Let’s see how good you are at playing fetch!” He threw the glass ball as hard and as far as he could, and then shot down towards the ground, not bothering to watch to see if Potter went after it. He dismounted in-air (not quite as difficult as an in-air mount, but still fairly impressive) and smiled to himself as the group of First Years around him cheered. But then he looked up and saw that they weren’t cheering him; instead they were still looking up at the sky, where Potter had somehow managed to snatch the damn remembrall right out of the sky. It seemed that Potter had not just inherited his father’s flying abilities, but his Seeker abilities as well.

Draco suddenly found himself wishing he had paid more attention to that Dark Arts book he had found hidden in his father’s study over the summer. He had a very sudden and deep need to hex a certain someone right between their speccy four eyes.

Potter tumbled neatly to the ground and slung his broom over his shoulder, tossing and catching the ball once before putting it in his pocket, a small smile on his lips. Draco scowled as the Gryffindors all crowded around Potter, just as Madam Hooch rounded the corner. _Of course,_ Draco thought sourly to himself. _Potter would get back on the ground just seconds before he might’ve gotten in trouble._ That was just Draco’s luck.

 

* * *

 

The remembrall incident had given Draco an idea. After spending a few days fuming over not only how well Potter flew, but also how he always seemed to slink out of getting in trouble, he decided he should do something about it. He knew that Potter and his friends often sneaked around at night, setting pranks with the Weasley twins (most often in the corridor outside the Slytherin common room), or sneaking down to the kitchens for some midnight snacks. And yet, they never seemed to get caught. However, if Draco could arrange for Potter and his cohorts to be in a certain place at a certain time, and then inform a teacher as to their whereabouts, then it would be virtually impossible for Potter to escape some well deserved punishment.

So at breakfast the next morning, Draco waited until Potter and his group were about to leave the Great Hall, and then he accosted them.

“I bet you think you’re really something, don’t you Potter?” Draco snarled, banging his shoulder hard into Potter’s to halt him in his tracks. “Getting out of a detention for being on your broom.”

Potter rolled his eyes and tried to shove passed him. “Leave off, Malfoy. You’re the one who took the stupid thing. All I did was take it back from you.”

This was just the opening Draco had been looking for. “You’re so brave up on a broom, Potter, but what about on the ground?”

“What d’you mean?”

“A duel, Potter, you against me. Midnight tonight.”

Potter scoffed. “I don’t think so, Malfoy.”

“What’s the matter, Potter? Scared?”

“Course he’s not,” Weasley butted in. “I’m his second; who’s yours?”

Draco looked over his shoulder to where he knew Crabbe and Goyle would be standing. They followed him everywhere. He sized them both up and then turned back to Potter and his friends. “Goyle. See you at midnight, Potter. In the trophy room. If you’re late, I’ll know it’s because you were too scared to face me on the ground.” He brushed passed the group of Gryffindors, smirking to himself as he heard their hushed whispers slowly fading away behind him. Now, all he had to do was find Mr Filch and tell him his trophy room was going to be the source of a prank to be pulled at midnight.

 

* * *

 

Draco was not impressed. He stood by Hagrid’s hovel, his arms crossed and his eyes fixed firmly on the ground before him. There was no way he was going to set one foot inside the Forbidden Forest. No _way_ , no matter what the great lumbering oaf said. There were _werewolves_ in that forest for Merlin’s sake!

“If my father were here,” he began furiously, but the groundskeeper cut across him.

“He’d tell yer that’s how it’s done at Hogwarts,” Hagrid said loudly, his accent so thick Draco could barely understand a word. “Now, we need ter stick close together in there. There’s things that won’ take too kindly to bein’ crept up on, ‘specially at nigh’. So you’ll want ter stay close to me, alrigh’? Off we go then.”

Draco snuck a quick glance over at Potter, who seemed completely at ease with entering the forest in the dead of night. Draco sneered and pointedly ignored the piles of gold coloured wrappers sitting on a stump in front of him. They were supposed to be luring nifflers into waiting traps, so that the Third Years could study them in their Care of Magical Creatures lessons the following day, but there was no way Draco would be getting on his hands and knees and grubbing in the dirty forest floor, detention or no detention. It just wasn’t something a Malfoy would _do._ He stalked along behind Potter and the oaf, holding himself back as far as he dared as he watched Hagrid placing cages on the floor and hiding them behind bushes. Once the traps were in place along the outskirts of the trees - for quicker retrieval the following morning, apparently, not that Draco cared - Hagrid reached out and dumped two massive handfuls of wrappers into Draco’s arms.

“Off yer go then. Make sure the trails all lead back to these cages, and we’ll ‘ave a nice bunch o’ nifflers for classes.” He patted Potter on the shoulder, who wobbled a bit from the impact. “I’ll go on ahead, and make sure there’s nothin’ that’ll scare yeh, alrigh’?” And with that, the great giant of a man stomped off through the trees, disappearing almost at once into the gloom.

Potter sighed and rolled his shoulders, his eyes on the bushes where the traps had been hidden. “Come on then, Malfoy. The quicker we get this done, the quicker we can get back to bed.”

“If you think I am stepping one foot inside that forest, Potter, then you are even more stupid than you look. Which is saying rather a lot.”

Potter rolled his eyes. “Fine then. Stand out here, all by yourself. In the dark. See if I care.” He lifted his armful of wrappers higher on his chest and stalked through the trees, away from Draco, without a backwards glance.

Draco stood still for a moment, but then the wind moved through the trees suddenly, sounding very much like a howl, and Draco found his feet tripping forward of their own accord, in a hurry to catch up with Potter so that he wouldn’t be alone. He didn’t miss the smug smirk on Potter’s face as he appeared next to him, but he decided to let it slide. He’d wait until _after_ he was out of a dangerous forest to antagonise his only source of company. Until then, he’d keep Potter close so that he could use him as a shield against the many beasts that wandered through the trees at this ungodly time of night.

He followed Potter as he moved through the trees, creating trail after trail of pretty wrappers for the nifflers to follow back to the cages waiting for them, scowling round at the darkness all the while. All the times he had gleefully imagined Potter finally being caught doing something against the rules, he had never once thought about what it would be like to have to share the punishment. He’d spent the previous evening laying in his bed, watching the time tick closer to midnight and laughing to himself over what Potter was going to find when he arrived for their duel. There would be no Draco, but there would be a very cross and vindictive caretaker, just waiting to catch them in the act. Draco had finally fallen asleep and dreamed of a Hogwarts with no Potter. He had gotten up early and been one of the first to arrive in the Great Hall for breakfast, so eager was he to see the downcast look on Potter’s face at finally being caught out of bed after curfew. But instead of seeing glum and miserable faces amongst the Gryffindors, Potter and his rabble had fairly swaggered into the hall, both Potter and Weasley looking very tired but also very, very pleased with themselves. Draco had looked on in frustrated confusion as the rest of the Gryffindor First Years had crowded around Potter, listening to whatever tale he was telling them with enraptured expressions and pointed grins in the direction of the Slytherin table. Whatever else had happened, Potter clearly _hadn’t_ been caught.

Infuriated beyond belief, Draco had cornered Potter outside the Charms classroom, shoving the boy hard into the wall. “Too chicken to turn up last night then? And here I thought Gryffindorks were supposed to be _brave_.”

“Oh, we were there alright, Malfoy,” Potter replied, shoving him back and standing upright. “Long enough to see old Filch skulking around, _exactly_ where we were supposed to meet, funnily enough.” He sent a grin over his shoulder to his gathered friends. “And to work out that you didn’t bother to show your pointy face. Now who’s the coward?”

Enraged, Draco had drawn his wand, and within seconds he was standing wandtip to wandtip with Potter. Just in time for Flitwick to round the corner. And that had been that; twenty points taken from both Gryffindor and Slytherin, and detention with Potter for fighting in the corridors. And so now here he was, in the Forbidden Forest (and really, wasn’t it called that for a reason?) with a speccy git and a giant idiot of a man, hiding bits of paper in the ground for a bunch of boring creatures.

“Haven’t we been out here long enough?” Draco said, pouting.

Potter stood up from where he had been covering some wrappers with leaves. “I think we’ve got to keep going until we run out of these,” he replied easily, lifting a few more bits of paper from Draco’s arms and moving further down the trail.

“Ugh,” Draco huffed, and then turned his head to where he could hear Hagrid still blundering about in the underbrush. “I think we’ve more than done our duty. I’m going to go tell that oaf that it’s way past time for us to be back at the castle.”

“Don’t call him that,” Potter said as Draco moved away, but Draco ignored him and continued towards the huge bush that separated him from the groundskeeper.

The bush wriggled, and Draco stopped just in front of it. “I want to go back to the castle now,” he stated loudly. “I am sure my Head of House is wondering where I am.”

The bush wriggled again, and then suddenly an absolutely enormous horse crashed through the leaves, landing right in front of him. Draco shrieked in surprise and fell backwards, landing hard on his backside as bits of coloured paper rained down all over him. He gaped up at the horse, and let out a tiny whimper as he realised that it wasn’t a horse at all, but a _centaur_.

The centaur looked down at him, his lip pulled up in a faint sneer. “What are you two foals doing in the forest, unaccompanied?” The centaur asked, his voice slow and deep. Draco opened his mouth, but nothing more than a small squeak came out.

“We’re helping Hagrid set traps for some nifflers,” Potter said from behind him, his voice strong and unconcerned. Draco took a moment to be upset about this.

“An’ they’re not unaccompanied, Firenze,” Hagrid said, suddenly appearing to Draco’s right.

“Hagrid,” the centaur replied slowly, bowing his head. “I trust you’ll help the young ones back to the castle soon. It’s nearing the full moon, you know.” And with that, he stepped over Draco, and moved off into the trees.

“F-full moon? Is he talking about w-werewolves?” Draco stuttered, staring up at Hagrid.

“No, there’s no werewolves in these woods,” Hagrid replied, but Draco could barely hear him over the sudden explosion of sound from Potter.

“Oh Merlin, I wish I had a camera,” he sniggered into his hands, tears pouring down his face as he laughed. “There is no way I’m going to be able to do this justice.” He pointed at Draco with a shaking finger, before collapsing to his knees in silent giggles.

Draco scowled and pulled himself up off the ground, brushing the bits of paper that had landed on him to the floor. Hagrid guided them out of the forest, Potter still miming the explosion of rainbow coloured wrappers and then falling back into giggles all the way up to the castle.

_Great,_ Draco thought to himself as Potter sniggered at him once more before running up the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room. _Just bloody great._ Now everyone in Gryffindor was going to think he was scared of centaurs. Which he absolutely was _not_. It had just surprised him, that’s all. _Stupid bloody Potter._

 

* * *

 

Second Year had passed with little interaction between Draco and Potter, with the exception of Draco loudly pointing out Potter’s one-Weasley fanclub whenever he could. Potter’s face would turn bright red whenever the youngest girl-Weasley would show up, which was amusing enough for Draco to keep picking on it. But other than that, things between them had calmed down since their first year. This was mainly due to Lucius being infuriated that Draco hadn’t managed to become top in his classes, instead remaining firmly in second place, under Hermione Granger. Lucius had informed Draco that under no circumstances do Malfoy’s _ever_ come second to a _muggleborn_ , and so Draco had spent most of Second Year actually studying. It had paid off; in most of his classes, Draco had come out joint first alongside the bushy haired Gryffindor, and thankfully Lucius had been somewhat mollified. It had also helped that Draco had been given the spot of Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team, even though he had lost both the Cup and the House Cup to Potter and his insufferable Gryffindors.

But that had been Second Year, and now that they were allowed a bit more freedom as Third Years, it was time for Draco to indulge in some good old fashioned house rivalry, namely between himself and Potter. And he had the perfect plan already in place.

On their first trip into the nearby wizarding village of Hogsmeade, Potter had managed to land himself in trouble by not getting back to the castle gates in time. As a consequence, he had been told to report to Professor McGonagall precisely one hour before curfew, to ensure that he was inside the grounds at the correct time. If he was late even once more, then he would lose his rights to visit the village throughout the rest of the school year. It was the perfect set up for Draco to manipulate to his advantage.

He’d left Crabbe and Goyle halfway down the path back to the castle, and then skulked around the edge of the village, waiting for Potter to begin his way back to the school. It would only work if Potter did the right thing with his friends and insist they stay without him. Draco needed him to walk down the path alone. Sure enough, a few moments later, Potter and Weasley exited Zonko’s, their hands laden down with bags of tricks, ready for new pranks, most likely against the Slytherins. Potter waved Weasley off towards the Three Broomsticks, and made his solitary way up the path towards the castle. Draco grinned and ran on ahead, back to where Crabbe and Goyle were waiting for him. Together, they hunkered down behind the bushes and waited for Potter to walk past them.

Draco had hidden himself on the opposite side of the lane, and he watched as Crabbe and Goyle jumped out of their hiding places and grabbed Potter. Draco might have been the mastermind behind the plan, but he had no intention of being involved in the execution of it. No matter how many people knew that neither Crabbe nor Goyle could even fasten their shoelaces without Draco coaching them through it, if nobody saw him at the scene, then nobody could prove he’d had anything to do with it.

He crept behind them as Crabbe and Goyle pulled a struggling Potter down the path towards the Shrieking Shack. They’d already made a hole in the fence earlier in the day, and piled up the logs to the side of the rickety old door. They threw Potter inside and slammed the door behind him, moving the logs to cover the entrance. It wouldn’t take Potter long to break through the barrier, but it would be just long enough for him to be too late to report to McGonagall.

Draco waited with the others until Potter’s yells and bangs on the other side of the door petered out, and then with a smug smirk he led the way back up to the castle, happily imagining the thunderous look on Potter’s face once he finally made it out of the Shack. They laughed with each other and joked around all the way back up to the castle, and Draco didn’t think he’d ever been in such a good mood before as they made their way into the Great Hall for supper.

And then his good mood promptly vanished, because sitting at the Gryffindor table with a bunch of other students, was Harry _bloody_ Potter. Draco stopped and stared as Potter tucked into a huge serving of treacle tart, before lifting his head and locking eyes with Draco. Potter grinned and lifted his hand in a little wave, and then Draco was being shoved out of the way as Weasley, Finnigan and Thomas made their way over to their table.

The sound from the Gryffindor table slowly got louder and louder as more students trickled in and sat close to Potter, listening to him regale the tale before dissolving into laughter and pointed looks over at the Slytherins, and Draco in particular. Draco looked down at the food in front of him and scowled. Somehow, bloody Potter had managed to outwit him again. It just wasn’t _fair_.

 

* * *

 

It was getting close to Christmas during Fourth Year, and all the girls Draco came across were acting all atwitter. The Yule Ball was coming up soon, and all anybody could talk about was who was going with whom. The older students had less to worry about; most were either already in relationships, or had at least had some sort of practise at asking people out. But for Draco and the rest of his year mates, this would be their first time out in the daunting world of _dating_.

As soon as his parents had heard that the Tri Wizard Tournament would be held at Hogwarts that year, all they could talk about was the damn Yule Ball. _You have to ensure that you make an advantageous match, Draco_ , Lucius had informed him pompously. _It wouldn’t do for a Malfoy to have made ill choices in their dating history; that sort of thing is looked into during marriage proposals._ In turn, Narcissa would not stop talking about clothing. _You need to show your sophistication, my darling. A cravat rather than a tie, I think... Oh! And you must wear your Grandfather Black’s cufflinks. And don’t forget that shoeshine spell I taught you._

All in all, Draco felt very under pressure in the run up to Christmas. As the Slytherin Prince, all the fourth year looked to him to set the example, and it seemed as though his every movement was carefully noted down by the rest of his housemates. The problem was, Draco couldn’t think of a single girl he wanted to take to the Ball. All he could think about was having to hold hands with them, hold them close as they danced, maybe even kiss them goodnight. He knew all the older students would be using the dance as an opportunity to sneak away with their boyfriends and girlfriends, but Draco couldn’t think of a single girl he would want to do any of... _that_ with.

Everywhere he went, girls moved through the corridors in packs, giggling behind their hands and fluttering their eyelashes and talking about their new robes, and Draco just had no idea what to do with any of it.The one shining light amidst the seething mass of girls and dance lessons and rumours about the Weird Sisters playing at the Ball, was that Potter seemed to be having just as much trouble as Draco was.

In the end, Draco decided to play it safe. He had toyed with the idea of asking one of the delegates from Beauxbatons, but he had deemed the risk of rejection far too high - they were, after all, all at least two years older than him anyway. So Draco invited Pansy Parkinson, and as he knew without a doubt that she would answer in the affirmative, he even did it loudly and publicly in the middle of the Slytherin common room. As she tearfully and screechingly replied that she would, of course, absolutely _love_ to accompany him to the Ball, all Draco could really think about was if Potter had been braver than he, or if he had also just gone with the safe option and asked bushy haired Granger to go with him. Draco supposed only time would tell.

And time did indeed tell, and what a shock it was. Potter did not turn up with Granger on his arm, because for some inexplicable reason, she had turned up as Viktor Krum’s date. What on earth the famous Quidditch star and Tri Wizard Champion saw in the rabbit toothed Gryffindor, Draco had no idea. Instead, Potter had turned up with the Gryffindor Patil twin, while Weasley escorted the twin from Ravenclaw. None of them looked very happy about it, and Draco felt a surprising moment of kinship with them, as he felt Pansy’s nails digging sharply into the skin of his forearm.

The Ball wasn’t completely awful in the end; after some truly mortifying dancing and the uncomfortable feel of Pansy’s chest pressed up against his, the students were mainly allowed to just mingle amongst each other. Things started to get tense again once the older students started to slink away in pairs, sneaking off out into the grounds to find some privacy. Draco could see Pansy eyeing him up speculatively, probably wondering if Draco had plans to do the same with her. To Draco’s horror, she didn’t look all that displeased with the idea.

Draco stuck to the edges of the partiers and dancers for as long as he could, trying to avoid the moment when he would be expected to escort Pansy back to their common room. He hoped he would be able to tag along with a group of Slytherins all going back together, so that there would be less pressure for him to spend time alone with Pansy and her highly glossed lips. He looked across the hall and noticed Potter sitting with his friends, his eyes tracking Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang as they scurried out of the hall together, hands tightly entwined with each other. Potter had spent the evening in pretty much the same way as Draco; after the one requisite dance with his date, he had sequestered himself at a table close to the buffet and surrounded himself with his friends so that he wouldn’t be asked to dance any more. Draco had noted with glee that although he didn’t like to dance, he could at least handle it far better than Potter could, who seemed to have at least three left feet and absolutely no idea what to do with his arms. Draco at least _could_ dance, he just didn’t want to, and especially not with someone like Pansy, with her grabby hands sliding far too low on his waist for comfort.

“Draco! Finally, I’ve been looking for you for ages, where have you been?”

Pansy’s arms slid around his waist, and Draco tried not to cringe. “I- I was thinking about getting us some more drinks.”

Pansy looked down pointedly at his empty hands, and then shrugged lightly. “I was actually thinking it might be time for us to make our way back,” she said softly, and Draco just knew that what she really meant was that it was time for them to spend some time together. Alone.

He looked desperately around the hall for Crabbe or Goyle, but neither of them could be found. They must have sneaked off with their own version of some time alone; just them and a massive pile of cauldron cakes between them.

“Draco, now.” Pansy curled her hand around his elbow and began guiding him towards the exit.

Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought it might, Draco wondered to himself as they began the slow walk down the hallway towards the Slytherin common rooms, Pansy’s eyes darting left and right, looking for an unoccupied alcove. Maybe it’ll actually be nice, and Draco will then spend the rest of the year wondering what he had been so afraid of, why he hadn’t done this sooner.

It was exactly as bad as he thought it would be, Draco reflected minutes later. Pansy’s lips were slick with her gloopy lipgloss, sliding over his own and leaving trails of the sticky substance in their wake. His hands were on her waist, fingers flexing and gripping constantly, torn between the desire to push her away and holding on to see if it got better. Her tongue was hot against his own, far too wet and not enough movement. His back was pressed against unforgiving stone, Pansy’s breasts pushing against his chest as though determined to force all the air from his lungs. A thought flittered through his mind: _I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place_ , and he laughed, slightly hysterically, glad that the moment broke the kiss. He wrenched his eyes open and looked up... straight into bright green eyes.

Potter stood still in the hallway for a moment, looking over Pansy’s head with wide eyes, teeth biting down on his lower lip. Draco suddenly realised that his bottle green robes were almost the exact same shade as his eyes, still so incredibly vivid despite being hidden behind his glasses. Potter coughed and turned his head, and a moment later he was joined by a rabble of Gryffindors, all on their way back to their common room.

The next time Pansy lifted her hands and guided his head back down to hers, it wasn’t a sleek brown bob and glossy lips Draco imagined behind his lids. All he could see was bottle green eyes and chapped and bitten lips, framed with messy black strands of hair.

 

* * *

 

The third and final Tri-Wizard task was fast approaching, and it was all the school could talk about. Draco wasn’t; he had lost interest in the tournament as soon as a Hufflepuff had been named Hogwarts Champion. Instead, his mind was occupied with the revelation that the Yule Ball had brought him.

He thought he understood now, the reason he’d found the idea of asking a girl out so daunting; he didn’t want to ask any girl out, ever. It was extremely distasteful that it had been bloody Potter that had brought about this realisation, but then, Draco reasoned, he did spend quite a lot of time thinking about the other boy simply because he was _bloody Potter_.

Since coming back from spending Christmas with his parents, Draco had started to take closer note of the boys in Slytherin. Graham Selwyn, the Quidditch beater in sixth year, was particularly nice to look at, with his arm muscles and strong jawline. Draco spent many an evening in the common room admiring Selwyn, at least until Linden Burke’s scowl informed him that he was possibly being a little too obvious in his gaze. It probably wasn’t the done thing to be making eyes at someone else’s boyfriend.

After that, Draco made sure to be more surreptitious in his musing, and tried to find what it was he most enjoyed looking at. Blaise Zabini was beautiful, but a bit too much like polished marble for Draco’s tastes. Crabbe and Goyle weren’t even a possibility, and most of the older Slytherins looked like they had far too much troll blood in their genes to ever be appealing to Draco. The only boy Draco found his eyes wandering to more than once was Theo Nott. Theo was quiet and fairly solitary for a Slytherin, always on the sidelines, smiling at Slytherin jokes but never offering any of his own, keeping to himself much of the time. He was slight in stature, his skin slightly too pale, as though he spent far too much time indoors instead of out on the quidditch pitch. His hair was a dark brown, cut fairly short, his eyes a dark blue. At night, in the darkened Fourth Year dormitory, he almost looked like Potter, if Draco turned his head and squinted just so. The thought satisfied Draco somewhat; all this just meant that Potter was vaguely his type, rather than it being anything to do with the git himself.

Unfortunately, all this thinking of Theo and comparing him to Potter made for some confusing moments for Draco. More than once, Draco had found himself slipping into a fantasy or two about Theo, all the while watching the movement of dark hair in his peripheral vision, only to find out it had been Potter he had been looking at all along. And then his fantasies would somehow slip, and he’d find himself thinking of Potter instead of Theo. It was all very confusing and not a little irritating. He was fifteen years old; he should not be having these sorts of problems in the bedroom, especially as his bedroom as of yet had only ever entertained a party of one. Even more unfortunately, one such incident occurred during the final Tri-Wizard task.

It was incredibly boring, sitting in the stands and waiting while the three Champions ran through the maze. Once Fleur Delacour had set off through the tall bushes, there really was not a lot to do other than sit and wait. The bushes were all far too high to see over, and the most action anyone saw was the occasional teacher wandering the outside edge of the maze. It was just as boring as standing there watching the top of a perfectly still lake for an hour for the second Task, only made worse because of what had been done to the quidditch pitch. Crabbe and Goyle hadn’t stuck around for long before their stomachs started complaining, and then they’d sloped off to find their hidden stash of sweets. Pansy wasn’t talking to Draco, ever since he’d rebuffed her offer of a date to Hogsmeade for Valentine’s Day, and was now sitting close to Blaise and making the boy very obviously rather uncomfortable. So Draco was, for the moment, completely alone as they waited for the winner to be announced.

At first, Draco had amused himself by wondering just how the teachers were going to get the quidditch pitch back to top form ready for the next term, but that quickly became very dull, mainly because it required thinking about the giant idiot groundskeeper. But then, he caught a flash of dark hair to his right, and he sunk happily into a fantasy about Theo and himself, spread out on Slytherin green sheets. He was just getting to the really good part, when a hand brushed his thigh, jolting him out of his thoughts. Another flash of dark hair crossed his vision, and Draco thought for a wondrous moment that perhaps Theo had noticed his admiring glances and was reciprocating. He looked up, hardly daring to breathe, but instead of dark blue eyes all he could see was green. Draco’s breath caught in his throat. _How disappointing._

With a sneer, he batted away Potter’s hand and shoved him hard in the shoulder. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed.

Potter rolled his eyes and leaned back into his space. “Trust me, Malfoy, the only time I’d ever touch you willingly is when I punch you in the face.”

“That’s not what it looked like you wanted to do when you saw me kissing Pansy,” Draco retorted, voicing out loud for the first time the thing he’d refused to think about since that night; the way Potter had _looked_ at him.

“You call that kissing?” Potter let out a harsh laugh. “It looked more like she was trying to eat your face and you had no clue how to stop her.”

It wasn’t the jab at his kissing technique - or lack thereof - that made Draco react the way he did. It was the smug smirk on Potter’s face as he said it, as though he would have known exactly how to kiss Pansy properly. It was the sudden vision of Potter kissing Pansy in that alcove, and Draco looking in from the outside. It made his blood boil and his hands clench into fists, made him forget his wand completely as he lunged at Potter, dragging him down to the floor. He straddled Potter’s legs and swung his fist down, feeling a vicious pride as his knuckles connected with something soft and Potter swore loudly. After that it was all swinging fists and scuffling legs, hair pulling and shoulder pushing and half gasped threats and swear words, while above them the sound of cheering and winning gongs going off, signalling the end of the tournament.

It wasn’t until Weasley and Longbottom had managed to separate them that Draco realised that Cedric Diggory had won the Tri-Wizard Tournament for Hogwarts. It wasn’t until much later, once Draco was firmly ensconced behind his bed curtains with his hand down his pajama bottoms that he realised he’d been _hard_ all the way through the encounter.

_Bloody Potter._

 

* * *

 

Fifth Year was better than Fourth Year, and for two main reasons. Firstly, Quidditch was back on, which meant more time on a broom during practise and less time standing around doing nothing while other people battled dragons and swam in lakes. And secondly, Draco finally managed to get himself a boyfriend.

It wasn’t Theo, because unfortunately Theo turned out to prefer girls with the same ferocity that Draco preferred boys. But Randall Masters was a good enough substitute, with his messy dark hair and hazel eyes, and even though he was a year older than Draco he didn’t seem to want to take control of their relationship. He was pretty much the perfect Slytherin boyfriend to have, even if Draco did find him more than a bit boring at times.

Another good thing to come out of Fifth Year was that Draco seemed to find himself within spying distance of Potter much less than previous years. He supposed it had a lot to do with the stupid _Defense Association_ the Gryffindors had cooked up, keeping Potter far busier than usual and so not up to his usual amount of pranks, aimed always at the Slytherins. At first, Draco had been interested in what the group of mixed Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were up to, and had spent a good few months following Potter and his minions about to find out if he could get them in trouble for it. Once it turned out to be a headmaster sanctioned club however, Draco quickly lost interest and devoted more of his time to experimenting with Randall. It didn’t stop the pesky fantasies, ones that included messy black hair and deep green eyes, but it did at least lessen the chances of Draco accidentally mooning over Potter during classes.

And so Fifth Year passed with almost no interaction between Draco and Potter, even after he broke things off with Randall - he really was too dull to endure - and freed up most of his evenings. Unfortunately, that all changed come Sixth Year, when both Draco _and_ Potter were assigned quidditch captains of their respective teams.

Captains were required to spend at least a little time in each other’s company. They had to meet regularly throughout the year, drawing lots to see who would play against whom in what order, organise practise times so that nobody overlapped, and make sure that the cleaning of the pitch and the changing rooms were spread out evenly across the teams. Even more unfortunately, this year the Slytherin team practise was scheduled just before the Gryffindors on a Saturday morning, which meant Draco got to see a lot of Potter in his quidditch leathers as they swapped over in the changing rooms. And he couldn’t say that he disliked what he saw, either. And then something strange happened, one blustery Saturday morning, that got into Draco’s head and refused to let go.

It had been a long training session that morning. Marcus Selwyn, their new young beater, had been having serious trouble with his aim (he had nowhere near his older brother’s skill, it seemed), and Draco had spent longer than he’d anticipated trying to get the boy to improve. After finally dismissing his team and putting the balls back in the shed, it meant that he was alone and running over Slytherin’s allotted time by the time he’d stepped into the shower. If he’d thought about what this meant, Draco might have decided to just pack up his things and taken a leisurely shower down in the Slytherin bathrooms. But instead he’d been moving on autopilot, his brain busy thinking about drills he could use on Selwyn to get his aim better while his body went through the usual routine of _strip, lather, rinse, air dry._

_Air dry._ This was what had really tripped Draco up. If his sensitive skin could handle towel drying without coming out in ugly red splotches, maybe none of this would have happened. But instead, Draco found himself standing in the middle of the changing rooms, completely naked, staring at a very red faced Potter.

Draco found himself in the very unusual position of not having a clue what to either say or do. He stood completely still, towel still in hand, his hair mussed over his forehead from where he had been drying it, his other hand frozen on its journey towards picking up the moisturiser standing on the counter. He continued to stand there, even as Potter’s gaze slid down his chest, over his taut stomach muscles, and finally dipping lower. His eyes stayed looking down for an impossibly long moment, his cheeks growing steadily redder and redder as the moment continued. And then he seemed to shake himself, and with one skittish glance at Draco’s face, Potter turned and fled the changing rooms as though he were being chased by fiendfyre.

It didn’t escape Draco’s notice that certain parts of his anatomy had rather liked being looked at by Potter. Somehow, he didn’t think it had escaped Potter’s notice either.

 

* * *

 

Draco didn’t like Potter.

Potter was a stupid, speccy, Gryffindor _git_ , and Draco could barely be in the same room as him for long before the desire to punch the idiot in the nose threatened to overwhelm him. He was just so... _annoying._ Irritating. Smug. He was so much the quintessential Gryffindor that it made Draco’s skin itch just thinking about him. However, ever since the incident in the changing rooms, Draco couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to kiss Potter. To feel those hands on his skin, to know how he tasted, how he sounded when pressed up against someone. And it wasn’t as though either of them had to _talk_ in order to do all those things, so maybe Draco could stomach spending time with Potter if it meant he got to do all of those things without wanting to punch Potter in the nose.

First of all though, this required reconnaissance. Draco wasn’t even sure that Potter liked boys; the last he’d seen had been Potter taking Patil to the Yule Ball while obviously wishing he could have been there with Chang. Maybe the incident in the changing rooms had been a one-off, a moment of confusion, or Potter taking a random accident as an opportunity to be curious. Although, if the amount of time he had spent staring at Draco’s bits were any indication, Draco would bet the entire contents of his trust fund vault that Potter was slightly more than curious. But, if he was going to make any sort of offer at all, he was going to have to be sure about how it would be received first.

So he planned and he spied and he eavesdropped as covertly and as much as he could, but in the end he found out that all he had to do was bump into Potter by accident in the potions corridor.

The Shrinking Solution Draco had brewed the previous lesson had come out a darker green than he really wanted, and so he had stayed behind during lunch break to reread the instructions to see where he had gone wrong. By the time he’d realised that he’d missed one of the loops in the wand-wave, nearly all the students and teachers had left the entire corridor completely empty. Except for one Harry Potter, it seemed.

All of Draco’s potions notes exploded out of his hands as he slammed into someone coming very fast around the corner. He stumbled back, a curse halfway out of his mouth before he looked up and realised who it was.

“Don’t start, Malfoy,” Potter said, bending down and gathering up some of Draco’s notes. “I didn’t mean to, alright? I’m really not in the mood for one of your hissy fits. I was just looking for a place to think.”

“And here I thought you were looking for me,” Draco said with a smirk. “I’m not naked right now though, sorry to disappoint.”

Potter dropped the parchment he was holding and launched himself at Draco with a strangled snarl. Draco’s back hit the wall as Potter’s fist collided with his ribs. All his breath left his lungs in a rush, allowing Potter to get another punch in, this time to the side of Draco’s face. Draco swore and brought his hands up, fisting them in Potter’s robes and shoving, catching Potter’s leg with his foot as he reversed their positions. Potter let out a gasp as his head smacked into the wall behind him. And instead of raising his fist and punching Potter’s glasses into his face, Draco did what he’d been thinking about for two years. He kissed him.

It was... incredible. It was warm and wet, instead of hot and slobbery like kissing Pansy had been. It was responsive and passionate, instead of lacklustre and dull like kissing Randall had been. Potter tasted like fresh air and leather, with an underlying sweetness that made Draco want to lick deeper, taste more. Until the hands clawing at his shoulders straightened out and _pushed_ , breaking their connection.

“What. The fuck. Was that.”

Potter’s voice was low and raspy, his chest moving rapidly as he breathed hard. Draco smirked. “Why are you in such a bad mood today?”

Potter snarled. “Answer the question, Malfoy.”

“I’ll answer yours if you answer mine.”

Potter lifted a hand and ran it through his hair. “Fine! It’s because of _you,_ alright? Are you happy now?”

Draco frowned. He hadn’t done anything to Potter lately that he could remember, and even then, the things he did mostly seemed to roll off Potter’s shoulders, not make him storm about the castle in a towering rage. “As much as I enjoy the idea that my mere existence annoys you, I’d like to know exactly what it is about me that set you off this time.” He grinned. “So I can keep on doing it.”

“It was the changing rooms,” Potter said suddenly, spitting the words out like poisonous barbs. “I saw you, and then I couldn’t stop... So I had to break up with Ernie. And now he’s not talking to me, and Hermione’s all over me, because _he made you happy, Harry, I don’t understand_ -” His voice went up into a high and terrible impression of Granger, although Draco thought the nagging was spot on. “- And Ron keeps asking if it was because I’d met someone else, and all I want is to be left _alone_ so I can think in peace! Now you tell me: What. The fuck. Was that?”

All Draco really got out of Potter’s tirade was the fact that he’d just been given irrefutable proof, not only about Potter liking boys but also that Potter might be amenable to some kind of arrangement between them. He smiled to himself.

“That, Potter, was a kiss. It was also a proposal, of sorts.” Draco leaned his hands against the wall on either side of Potter’s head. “Now let’s get one thing perfectly clear: I don’t like you. You’re irritating and annoying, and a _Gryffindor,_ and I have absolutely no desire to spend any amount of meaningful time in your company.” He watched as Potter raised an eyebrow. “So here are the rules: We’re not dating. There’ll be no talking, no studying together in the library, no mixing up the tables at dinner, no hand holding in Madam Puddifoots -” Potter snorted and rolled his eyes in agreement. “- Just this, like now. We go in, we get off, and then we walk away. Agreed?”

Potter tilted his head to the side, and then nodded, once. “Agreed.”

“And there’ll be no telling all your little friends either, because -”

“Malfoy,” Potter interrupted, reaching out and bunching his hands in the front of Draco’s robes. “You’re talking. Stop it.”

They ended up _not_ talking for the rest of the lunch break.

 

* * *

 

“This is ridiculous.”

Draco squeaked and almost fell off his bed, dropping the book he’d been reading. “How the hell did you get in here?”

“I have a map and an invisibility cloak.” Potter shrugged. “And don’t change the subject.”

Draco scowled and picked up his book. “What’s ridiculous?”

“This. You. Us,” Potter waved his hand through the air, then shoved it into his hair. “Come on, get up. It’s a beautiful day outside and a bunch of people are all spending it down by the lake. Let’s go join them.”

Draco snorted. “A bunch of Gryffindors, you mean.”

“No, you git.” Potter grabbed a cushion from the end of the bed and lobbed it at Draco’s head. “A bunch of _people._ Ginny’s invited Luna, and she’s bringing along Padma and Michael Corner. Nev’s asked Hannah, so that means Susan will be going, so even Nott will be there.” He raised his eyebrows. “Even Zabini’s said he’ll be turning up. I think he’s trying to get in Dean’s trousers, to be honest.” He snorted out a laugh. “Seamus will hex his bollocks off if he tries anything.” Potter paused, waiting for Draco to look up at him. “Parkinson’s going to be there too, you know.”

Draco gaped. “Pansy?”

“Yep. She’s been seeing Parvati for the past couple of months, didn’t you know?”

Draco sank back against his pillows. “So basically, it’s a big group of couples.”

“Not just couples, but even if it was, we could still join them.”

“We are not a couple, Potter, or have you forgotten?”

“And we’ve come right back to this being ridiculous.” Potter pulled himself up onto the end of the bed, and something shimmery fell from his arms to the floor. He began stalking up the bed on his hands and knees, his eyes on Draco’s as he advanced. “Remember all those rules you laid out for us when we started this, Malfoy?” He reached Draco’s legs and crawled in between them, shoulders brushing knees. Draco held his breath. “We talk all the time.” He lifted a hand and pushed his fingers under the hem of Draco’s t shirt. “I even make you laugh.” He dipped his head, tongue peeking out to lick a wet stripe across the bared strip of skin.

“At you, Potter, I laugh _at_ you,” Draco gasped out, Potter’s fingers making maddeningly light circles over his hips. Potter was right though; in the last six months that they’d been doing... this, the rule of no talking had been discarded fairly quickly. It turned out that Draco didn’t mind spending time in Potter’s company; he was surprisingly intelligent and witty when he put his mind to it.

Potter moved further up, sliding Draco’s t shirt higher as he kissed a path up Draco’s chest. “We study together, all the time.”

Again, true; just last month they had spent an entire Friday evening in the library, Draco helping Potter with his Potions essay and Potter teaching him the correct wand movement for the stronger Protego they’d been learning in Defense. But that didn’t make them a couple.

Potter licked a light, teasing touch to Draco’s nipple, and Draco groaned. “And last week, you held my hand when we walked into Hogsmeade.”

Shit. Again, Potter was right. Draco hadn’t been thinking, he’d just been laughing at something Potter had said, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to just reach out and slide his fingers between Potter’s. He hadn’t even realised he’d done it until they had almost reached the village.

Potter lifted his head and looked down at Draco, balanced on his fists either side of Draco’s head. “What we’ve been doing the past six months? It’s called _dating_. We are a _couple_.” He dipped his head and kissed Draco, long and slow and deep, stealing his breath. “Admit it,” he whispered, once he was done turning Draco’s bones to jelly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Fine. We’re a couple. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic.” Potter sat up and looked down at Draco, his green eyes sparkling. “And now, Draco Malfoy, it’s time for you to stop being a coward and come outside for some fun with our friends.” He slapped Draco’s thigh and slid off the bed.

Draco scowled at being called a coward, but he got no further than mumbling under his breath and pouting before Potter had grabbed his hand and pulled him up.

“Fine,” Draco said, as Potter stalked through the Slytherin common room as though he had every right to be there, his fingers wrapped firmly around Draco’s wrist. “But if any of your little friends start making comments, I’m not going to hold back on the hexes.”

“They won’t. I already warned them about that this morning.”

“You told them?” Draco dug his heels into the corridor floor, pulling them to a stop. “What happened to the rule?”

Potter turned back to him with an amused expression. “We’ve broken all the others, Malfoy, it was about time that one was thrown out of the window as well.” He pushed Draco gently against the wall, bringing his hands up to slide them through Draco’s hair. “It’ll be fine, I promise.” He kissed Draco chastely on the lips and moved away, and Draco followed him and pulled him into a deep and searching kiss. Whatever he had been looking for he must have found, because when they broke apart for air, Draco’s chest felt lighter and a small smile was threatening to slide onto his lips. He grabbed Potter’s hand, laced their fingers together, and let his Gryffindor lead the way out of the castle.

 

* * *

 

The Knight Bus was probably Draco’s least favourite way to travel. He cursed Potter’s name for the fifth time as the bus took yet another curve far too fast, his leather Chesterfield armchair sliding across the floor beneath him. His knuckles were white against the red of the arm, his fingernails leaving grooves in the leather as he held on for dear life. Really, any other way to travel would have been preferable.

Although, it wasn’t exactly Potter’s fault that Draco was currently traveling through the countryside at breakneck speed, instead of walking leisurely through the Floo like any normal person. It was just that Draco couldn’t exactly state _Potter Residence_ in front of the fireplace in the Manor’s parlour without answering a lot of questions he wasn’t yet ready to face. Even though it seemed, apparently, that Potter himself had had no such qualms broaching such a subject in his own home. Unless... Maybe this was how he intended to do it? Invite Draco to his home during the holidays and just thrust their relationship onto his parents and sit back and see what happens?

_“Godric’s Hollow,”_ the conductor announced, just as the bus swerved to a stop in the middle of a country lane. Draco dragged his suitcase from where it had slid under an overstuffed settee and hopped off the back end of the bus. With a screech and a bang, the bus Apparated itself off to its next stop, and Draco found himself alone on the road, with nothing to keep him company except for a smirking Potter, leaning against a low brick wall.

“Are you wearing jeans?”

Potter laughed. “We haven’t seen each other for two weeks, and that’s the first thing you say to me?” He stood up and walked forwards, pushing himself into Draco’s space and kissing him, hard and deep. “I missed you too, git,” he said softly as they parted.

“Happy birthday,” Draco whispered back, and got a soft smile and another kiss in return.

“Okay, tell me what I’m in for here,” Draco said, as Potter leaned down and picked up his case. “And where the bloody hell is your house?”

“Around the corner. Dad doesn’t like me just handing out our address. He was a famous quidditch star for a while, you know.” Potter waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

“Yes, so I’d heard.” Draco rolled his eyes. “And you didn’t answer my first question.”

“Scared, Malfoy?”

“Not in the least. I’d just like to know if I need to dodge any curses, that’s all.”

Potter laughed out loud. “You might, but don’t worry, they won’t be lethal ones.” They rounded a bend in the small road and a house came into view; a beautiful sprawling cottage, complete with mullioned windows and ivy curling around the front door. Draco thought his mother would likely be jealous at the amount of roses blooming in the front garden. Potter walked up the path and opened the door, and Draco reached out to grab his wrist, stilling him.

“They do know who I am, right? And what -” he struggled for the right words, “- What _we_ are?”

Potter grinned at him. “Come in and find out.”

Draco scowled, not liking that his boyfriend was refusing to put him out of his misery, but he followed Potter as he made his way through his house, finally coming to a stop just inside a pair of large patio doors, spread open to let in the balmy July air. Draco leaned around Potter and took in the scene in the back garden.

A man in slightly shabby robes sat on a wooden bench in the corner closest to the door, a pretty redheaded woman Draco knew to be Lily Potter seated next to him. Together, they both looked on with amused expressions as a man with wavy brown hair threw potted plants up into the air, the man standing next to him blasting them to smithereens with his wand.

“Do you think he’ll carry on much longer?” Lily murmured to her companion, who snorted softly.

“I think it’s fairly safe to say you’ll run out of planters before he runs out of melodrama,” he replied, and the man brandishing his wand whirled on his heel.

“I’m not being melodramatic, Remus,” James Potter shouted, and a pot the other man had thrown in the air landed on his head. “Ow, fuck! What the hell, Sirius?”

“Sorry! I thought you were ready,” Sirius laughed, ducking the hand that James snapped out.

Lily muttered something that sounded like _boys,_ and then raised her voice. “Come and sit down, you idiots, Harry’ll be back soon.” She leaned forward and conjured two more glasses on the table before her, filling them up with amber liquid with another flick of her wand. “You need to be calm by the time he brings the boy back here; we don’t want him thinking Harry’s being brought up by a bunch of lunatics.” She aimed the last word rather sharply at Sirius, as he and James sat down on another bench.

“I just don’t get it,” James sighed. “It’s got to be teenage rebellion, right?” He glanced at Sirius for support. “I mean, he can’t really like a _Malfoy,_ can he?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, mate,” Sirius said, leaning back in his seat and knocking his knee against James’s. “My act of rebellion was to tell my parents to shove their pureblooded nonsense up their pureblooded arses, and it kind of stuck with me, if I’m honest.” James rolled his eyes.

“You can’t discriminate against the boy because of who his father is, James,” Remus said quietly.

“I’m not! It’s just- It’s a _Malfoy_.”

“And Sirius is a Black, and you don’t hold that against him.”

“It’s true, he doesn’t. He’s been very good about the whole thing, really.” Sirius said, ruffling James’s already wild hair.

“Yeah but I’m not _shagging_ Sirius, am I?”

“No, that’d be Remus’s job,” Lily piped up, as Sirius barked out a laugh and Remus’s cheeks went red.

James took on a pleading tone as he looked at his wife. “It can’t be that serious though, right? He still calls him by his last name, Evans.”

Lily sighed in exasperation. “I think I’ll let you work out the irony of that statement.”

“What? Oh, but no, because we’re different, we hated each other when we first got to school.”

“So did Harry and Draco,” Lily replied, topping up their drinks. “You remember, he used to come home every summer, ranting about _Malfoy this_ and _Malfoy that_ and _that bloody Malfoy git_. And then last summer it was suddenly wistful sighs and -”

“And that’s enough of that,” Potter said suddenly, yanking Draco back away from the door.

Draco wanted to hear more about the wistful sighs, but then he remembered he was about to be introduced to the people sitting out there, talking about him. “Are they always like that?” He asked instead.

Potter shrugged his shoulders. “Pretty much, You kind of get used to it after a while. Okay, coaching lessons: Don’t say anything bad about the Wimbourne Wasps in front of my dad; seriously, you don’t want to open that can of worms. Be suspicious of anything Sirius gives you; it’s likely to have something in it that’ll turn your hair blue or something. And if you’re ever stuck for anything to say, talk to mum about potions; she loves all that stuff, and I’m a constant disappointment to her that I have no clue what she’s going on about most of the time.” Potter clapped his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Got it?” Draco nodded, and Potter grinned and gave him a quick kiss. “Relax, it’ll be fine.” Then he turned his head and yelled towards the patio door, “Mum, Dad! We’re back!”

The only thing Draco could think of, as Potter gripped him tightly around the wrist and pulled him outside, was that he was going to have a lot of fun getting even when he finally introduced Potter to his own parents.

 

* * *

 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, you know.”

Draco’s eyes fluttered closed as Potter’s hands slid down his bare ribcage, thumbs circling his nipples as he kissed a deep bruise into Draco’s neck. He wanted to, he did, but he was scared and desperate for reassurance, and the Slytherin inside him warned against revealing that weakness, even to Potter.

“I want to, but if you’re not ready -”

“I am, I’m ready.” There was no way Draco was going to let Potter think he was ready before Draco was. Because he _wasn’t,_ Draco was definitely ready, so ready he’d been dreaming about this for bloody months. He just... He wasn’t sure whether or not it was going to _hurt._

Potter slid his hands back up to Draco’s shoulders and raised his head, looking down at him speculatively. Draco narrowed his eyes; he didn’t like it when Potter turned that occasionally shrewd gaze on him. Potter slid off him, crooking his elbow and resting his head on his hand, trailing the fingers of his other up and down Draco’s thigh.

“Do you know what Hermione gave me for my birthday?” He asked conversationally, and Draco’s eyebrows flew up at the sudden change in conversation. Here they were, both of them naked and laying on Draco’s silk green bedsheets, the curtains shielding them from the rest of the seventh year Slytherin dorm, and Potter wanted to talk about Granger’s gift giving skills?

“Let me guess, a book,” Draco drawled, showing his boredom with a roll of his eyes.

“However did you guess?” Potter fake-gasped, pinching Draco’s thigh. “But this one was actually interesting. It was called, _The Wonders of Wizard Sex_.”

Draco spluttered. “She actually bought you a book about that?” He vaguely remembered the party at Potter’s house over the summer. Granger had pulled Potter into his bedroom early on in the evening, and they had both emerged rather red in the face. If he hadn’t been in the middle of an in depth conversation with Lily about the wiggenweld potion, Draco might have had time to be jealous and wonder what had been going on. “Did you read it?” He asked.

Potter nodded. “Cover to cover. Twice. I am pretty much as informed as I’m ever going to get.”

Draco rolled on his side, facing Potter, tangling their fingers together. “I want to, it’s just -” his voice dipped to barely above a whisper, and Potter leaned closer, his eyes so very green without his glasses. “What if it hurts?”

Potter lifted his hand and trailed his fingers through Draco’s hair. “How about I go first?”

Draco swallowed against a dry throat, suddenly much more interested in the proceedings. “Yeah? You’d be okay with that?”

“Hey, I’m a Gryffindor, putting our arses on the line is what we do.” Potter waggled his eyebrows. “Sometimes literally.”

Draco snorted. “You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot you’re about to fuck.”

Draco licked his lips. “Yeah. Yes, I suppose I am.”

Potter rolled onto his back, gripping Draco by his arms and pulling him down on top of him. He picked up his wand and whispered a couple of spells, one that sounded like a derivative of a cleaning charm, and the other that had a vague medicinal flavour to it. “Now we’re both clean and protected,” he whispered, and Draco had to swallow against the sudden influx of saliva at the sultry sound of Potter’s voice.

“So I’m not going to get you pregnant, then?”

Potter snorted. “There are some things even magic can’t do, Malfoy.” Then he touched the tip of his wand to Draco’s hand and uttered the spell all Hogwarts boys learned to do their very first term. His fingers became slick with scented oil, and Draco swallowed again at the thought of what he was about to do.

Potter laid back and slowly shifted his legs apart, letting Draco fall into the cradle of his thighs, knees braced against Draco’s ribs. “One at a time, and slowly, the book says.”

Draco nodded and licked his lips. They’d come close to this before, in the midst of handjobs and blowjobs and rutting against each other until they both came. The more time they spent completely naked in each other’s presence, the more their fingers wandered to places they wanted to go but weren’t quite sure they were allowed. But now he had permission, and already his hand was drifting down, stroking over Potter’s balls and further down, as though his body had decided not to wait for his brain to catch up. He circled one of his slicked fingers around Potter’s hole, and could barely hear Potter’s gasp over his own.

“The book says you should distract me with other things, while you’re preparing me,” Potter said, his voice slightly breathy.

“If you keep referencing the damned book, I might not be able to do this,” Draco mumbled. Potter laughed, and Draco used the moment to slide his finger in to the first knuckle. Potter gasped, and Draco felt him clench around him. He wondered how it was ever going to be possible to fit anything inside there; it was so _tight._ “Okay?” He asked, his voice hoarse.

Potter nodded. “Yeah. It doesn’t hurt. Feels weird, but not bad weird. Keep going.” He nodded again, and Draco wondered who he was trying to convince.

He moved out, and then in again, this time to the second knuckle. He glanced down and noticed that Potter’s erection, hard and leaking only moments before, was now flagging slightly. It didn’t seem like a good sign. He leaned forward and licked a stripe from root to tip, and this time Potter’s gasp sounded more like the ones he usually made when they were doing things like this. He carried on, encouraged, licking around the tip of Potter’s cock as he continued to move his finger in shallow thrusts.

He was pleased when it didn’t take long to bring Potter back to fully erect, and he’d failed to notice that Potter had begun meeting every thrust of his finger, now disappearing fully up to the third knuckle, until Potter rasped out, “More.”

Draco kept on sucking, the fingers of his other hand wrapped around the last couple of inches that he couldn’t fit into his mouth. He pulled out his finger and returned with two, massaging around Potter’s hole until it opened to him, letting him slide in almost all the way on the first try. It was tight, still so very tight, and he kept moving as he concentrated on giving Potter one of the best blowjobs he’d ever received.

His wrist was starting to cramp by the time Potter gasped out for another finger, and his cock was so hard Draco thought he might explode if he didn’t get some kind of friction soon. He almost cried in relief as Potter batted weakly at his shoulder, saying, “Okay, okay, enough, I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” Draco asked, removing his fingers somewhat reluctantly.

“Yes, I’m bloody fucking sure,” Potter panted, grabbing his wand again, and then suddenly Draco’s cock was as slick as his fingers. Potter sat up then, and turned over in front of him, getting up on his hands and knees.

“What -” Draco began, but the rest of the words died as he took in the sight before him.

“The book says - _shut up_ \- the book says that this position is easier for the first time, now come _on_ , for Merlin’s sake.”

Draco kneeled up and shuffled closer, one hand automatically reaching out to grip Potter’s hip. The tip of his cock slid against Potter’s hole, and Draco watched in amazement as the slick-shiny muscle fluttered at the touch.

“Just - Just go slowly, okay? Give me time to adjust.”

Draco nodded, then realised Potter couldn’t see him, so he slid his hand to the small of Potter’s back and rubbed soothing circles there as he lined up his prick.

It was hot, and slick, and so fucking _tight,_ and Draco was sure he was going to come with just an inch of his cock inside Potter, and he had to hold still and close his eyes and clench his teeth to make sure it didn’t end right there and then. He was glad he did, because by the time the red haze behind his eyelids faded, he could hear Potter mumbling, “Okay, I’m okay, you can keep going.”

Controlling his hips became the next issue for Draco, because they seemed desperate to shove in all the way to the hilt no matter what Potter had to say about it. He pushed forward slowly, stopping every inch for Potter to breathe and then nod that he was okay. By the time he felt his balls pressing up against Potter’s arse, he thought he might die from the pressure and the need to move.

“Wait, wait, just - wait a second,” Potter panted, and Draco tried to distract them both by sliding his hands over Potter’s skin, one sliding up over the ridges of his spine, the other curling down around his hip. He felt it when Potter finally started to relax; a slight release of the pressure all around him. But still he waited until Potter gave him permission to move.

A few more seconds passed, and then, “Okay, go, it’s okay, I’m okay.” Draco carefully pulled out about halfway and then thrust in again, and stopped at the sudden keening noise that came from Potter.

“Harry? Are you okay?”

Potter nodded frantically and let out a gasp. “It felt good, really good. Oh god, do that again.”

Draco did, moving his hand down lower at the same time to circle Potter’s cock. He smiled almost incredulously as he realised that Potter was fully hard and obviously enjoying this. He managed to set up a rhythm, pulling up on Potter’s cock with every outward pull of his hips, trying to angle himself to make Potter make that noise again. He only made it happen twice more however, before the tightening in his balls grew to unmanageable levels.

“Harry, I can’t, I’m going to -”

Potter nodded frantically some more, his hips shoving back to meet Draco’s every thrust. “Oh, God yes.”

Draco pushed in once more and came, hard, white light exploding behind his eyes and his hips twitching as he rode out his orgasm. By the time he finally came down, he realised that he’d slumped over and Potter was whimpering slightly, his hips circling as he tried to fuck himself on Draco’s still hand. He tightened his grip and began moving again, sliding his other arm around Potter’s chest and pulling him upright. A few moments later and Potter was spilling over his fingers, a low moan falling from his lips.

Draco slipped out of Potter as they sagged together, and they both slid to their sides onto the bed, Draco spooned behind Potter. “That was bloody fantastic,” Potter mumbled, his hand finding Draco’s on his chest and linking their fingers loosely.

Draco wiped his sweaty brow on the sheets beneath him. “Topping is so much hard work. You can do it next time.”

“Next time you can bloody well use a silencing charm, you _bloody_ tossers.”

Draco and Potter both squinted up at the light suddenly shining through their curtains. Goyle stared down at them, then abruptly turned bright red and yanked the curtains back into place.

Potter turned his head to look at Draco. “Err, oops?”

Draco dissolved into breathless laughter, burying his nose in Potter’s hair. At least they hadn’t been caught by Weasley. Draco didn’t think he’d be able to cope with _that._

 

* * *

 

It was summer time, and the seventh years were finally able to go outside and enjoy the sun, instead of being stuck indoors studying. Exams were over, graduation was coming up, and everyone was enjoying the last few weeks together until they went out into the world. The Hogwarts elves had provided a large and sumptuous picnic, and Draco and Potter were down by the lake with their friends, relaxing in the fresh air and pretending that they weren’t worried about what they’d achieved in their NEWTs. Colin Creevey and his brother Dennis had managed to transfigure a patch of grass into a chess board, and the group had begun an impromptu game of People Chess. Draco was sitting on the grass, laying between Potter’s knees with his back resting against his chest, as they watched Weasley playing against Theo.

“What are you doing?” Blaise said exasperatedly. “If you do that, you’re sacrificing yourself! I thought you were supposed to be good at this game.”

“He’s got a point, mate,” Finnigan said, hopping up and down on his square. “This isn’t wizard’s chess, Hermione’s not going to get chopped into pieces if you let her get taken.”

“He’s going to lose the game,” Draco murmured to Potter, who was gently stroking Draco’s hair.

“He’s trying to be gallant, leave him alone.”

“It won’t matter how gallant he is if he loses.”

“Winning isn’t everything, you know.”

“It is if you’re a Slytherin.”

“Good thing Hermione’s not, then.”

Potter poked him, and Draco felt something light brushing against his shirt. He scowled. The captain of the winning quidditch team got to keep the snitch from the last game of the year, and Potter had been playing non-stop with his ever since his win against Draco a week ago.

“Put that bloody thing away, you tosser.”

Potter grinned and let the fluttering gold ball go, reaching up and snagging it out of the air before it could get too far away. “Is this why you’re so prickly about winning today?” He threw the ball and caught it again. “I’ll let you borrow it if you like.” Throw, flutter, snatch, throw, flutter, snatch.

“Or I could just steal it from you,” Draco said, and snatched the ball as Potter threw it upwards. He was up and moving before Potter even realised what happened.

“Give that here, Malfoy,” Potter yelled behind him, and Draco urged his feet to go faster.

“How about I leave it somewhere for you to find?”

He didn’t get far before Potter tackled him from behind, the pair of them falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Somehow Potter managed to straddle him, and within seconds his fingers had sneaked inside Draco’s fist and reclaimed the madly fluttering snitch. With a triumphant yell, Potter held the snitch high above his head, smirking down at Draco. In retaliation, Draco dug his fingers into Potter’s ribs, and he collapsed, wriggling to get away. They rolled together down the grassy bank, and by the time they stopped, Draco found himself on top, holding Potter’s arms against the ground by his wrists, snitch wings peeking out from between his still closed fist. He smirked, and leaned down for a kiss, but then the entire crowd behind them erupted in sudden catcalls and whistling. Draco turned, but his blush faded as he realised it wasn’t directed at them.

“Yeah, go Ron!” Potter called out from beneath him, shoving against Draco’s hold so that he could sit up. Why he wanted a better view of Weasley and Granger, snogging for all they were worth in the middle of the chess board, Draco had no idea.

“You’re not even allowed on that square! That’s it, I give up,” Blaise raged from his position as king. “Theo, we’re starting again, and this time _I’m_ in charge.”

Weasley and Granger finally separated, their faces as red as Weasley’s hair. Granger wobbled slightly on her feet as Weasley pulled her from the chess board and linked their fingers together, walking quickly up to the castle to find a place to be alone.

Potter rolled onto his stomach beneath him and watched them go. “It’s about time, don’t you think?”

“I’d really rather not think about them at all,” Draco replied, his fingers slowly inching towards Potter’s still closed fist. Once he got there, however, he found the snitch had disappeared.

Potter snorted beneath him. “Too late, loser. Again.”

 

* * *

 

The graduation ceremony was hot and mostly boring. Draco sat with the other seventh year Slytherins, trying not to look as though he was sweating in his dark robes under the burning summer sun. Dumbledore had already given a speech about house unity and it not mattering what someone was born but what they grow to be, or something equally ridiculous. Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, had droned on about the importance of giving back to magical society. And now it was Granger’s turn, whom Draco completely tuned out to look up at the sky, waiting for the moment the Hogwarts owls would soar above them and drop their NEWTs results in their laps.

Draco could hear the collective gasps of the students and parents behind him as the owls appeared. Granger, still standing on the podium, seemed to cower in fear. A tightly rolled scroll dropped into his lap, and Draco tried to hide the slight tremor in his fingers as he moved to pull open the ribbon.

_Transfiguration                        (O)_  
 _Potions                                    (O)_  
 _Ancient Runes                         (O)_  
 _Charms                                   (O)_  
 _Defense Against the Dark Arts (E)_

Potter was at his side before Draco could even take in his results. “Four Outstandings and an Exceeds Expectations? That’s fantastic!” He grabbed the scroll from Draco’s limp hand, as though he had to get closer to really believe it. “Wow, Malfoy, this is really good.”

Draco felt his lips pulling up in a rare genuine smile. “It is, isn’t it? What about you?” He pulled Potter’s scroll from him before it could be offered, looking down at the list of letters. Potter hadn’t done quite as well, only scoring an E in both Transfiguration and Potions, but he too had managed Outstandings in Defense, Charms, and Astronomy. He looked up at Potter. “So, Auror training still on then?”

Potter nodded, his smile blindingly wide. “And a Potions Master for you?” Draco nodded, and Potter grinned even wider. Dazzled, Draco reached up and fisted his hand in Potter’s tie, pulling him down into a searing kiss.

“Draco Malfoy!”

Potter jumped back at Lucius’s furious shout and looked around, his eyes wide. “Oops.” He looked down at Draco, who was busy cringing into his hands. “Okay, well, you have fun with that, I’m gonna go show my mum and dad my results.” He put his hand on Draco’s shoulder. “See you at the gate in half an hour?”

Draco nodded morosely, and looked up to watch Potter bounce off to where his parents and godfather were waiting for him. Then he got up to face the music with his own parents.

 

* * *

 

“Another round!”

“You drink any more, Seamus, and you won’t even remember your own name.” Thomas grabbed the bottle of firewhisky anyway and topped up his boyfriend’s glass.

“Lucky I’ve got you to remind me then, eh?” Finnigan swayed on his seat, and Pansy put her arm around his shoulders, mainly to steady herself.

“So, what’s everyone doing after this, then?” Blaise asked, sliding closer on the wooden bench to the Ravenclaw Patil twin.

“Magical Games and Sports,” Finnigan hiccupped, and everyone raised their glasses and drank to his future success.

“Artist,” Thomas said next, and another drink was taken.

“Transfigurations master!” Another drink. “The study of Seers!” And another.

“Auror corp,” Weasley slurred, grinning lopsidedly at Potter.

“Me too,” Potter nodded at his best friend, the party hat slipping low on his head as he wobbled in his seat on Draco’s lap. “What’s Hermione doing?”

“Drinking a lot,” Draco sniggered, looking up to where Granger was weaving back from the bar, firewhisky sloshing over her fingers.

“Ecudash- Ecud- _educational reform_ ,” Granger struggled to say, downing her drink in one go. “I’m going to introduce a Pureblood Studies Bill, so that everyone can learn about the world we live in.”

Draco glanced up at her. “You keep talking like that, Granger, and I might just have to start liking you.” Granger beamed widely at him, and then promptly tripped over and passed out in Goyle’s lap.

“I’d say that was your cue to call it a night, people,” Madam Rosmerta called from her place behind the bar. “Beds are upstairs if you need ‘em, and congratulations.”

There was a lot of giggling and tripping over air as everyone slowly began to move. Weasley relieved Goyle of Granger’s prone form, slinging her over his shoulder and weaving towards the staircase, Finnigan and Thomas trying and failing to help support him from behind. Madam Rosmerta was used to this; once a year, she would put the firewhisky on the house, and transfigure a set of rooms upstairs for all the drunk and happy students for them to sleep it off. It was her way of both congratulating them and thanking them for their business throughout the years, one last big send off before they all had to be responsible and pretend to be adults. They’d be back at some point, she knew, for visits with friends or their own kids in the future. Only then the firewhisky wouldn’t be free.

Potter slid from Draco’s lap, stumbling upright, the hat slipping all the way off his head to the floor. He reached out his hands and Draco took them, helping him balance as Potter helped Draco out of his seat. Together they walked clumsily over to the stairs, swaying into each other as they tried and failed to avoid banging into abandoned tables and chairs. Madam Rosmerta began spelling the bar clean behind them, the lights dimming around her as she moved. They stumbled up the stairs, Draco in the lead with Potter’s hands hot and promising on his hips.

The first few doors they tried were locked, sounds of snoring and the occasional giggle floating out through the closed wood, but eventually they found an empty room. As soon as the door was closed, Potter pushed Draco against it, crowding into him as he placed a searing hot kiss against his lips.

“Been thinking about this all day,” Potter mumbled, trailing his lips in open mouthed kisses down Draco’s throat. “Thinking about being inside you, getting you to ride me, watching you fuck yourself on my cock.” His fingers scrabbled at the buttons on Draco’s shirt, tongue peeking out to lick circles into the bared skin. “Merlin, I need to fuck you, right now.”

“Yeah,” Draco replied hoarsely.

He closed his eyes and then quickly opened them again, not liking the way his head spun. He pushed back against Potter, directing them towards the bed, hands already fiddling with the opening of Potter’s trousers. Together they shuffled across the room, Draco’s hip banging painfully into a random desk chair as he hopped on one leg, trying to remove his trousers and forgetting to take off his shoes first. Potter ripped a hole in his shirt in his struggle to get it over his head, then grabbed Draco’s foot and pulled off his shoe for him. Once fully naked, they grabbed for each other, falling onto the bed but missing, ending up piled in a heap on the floor. Potter laughed, the sound turning into a loud moan as Draco reached between them and wrapped his fingers around his cock. Sudden loud banging on the wall made Draco jump, his head smacking against the bedside table.

“Silencing Charm, for Salazar’s sake,” Goyle shouted through the wall, and the muted sounds of laughter and catcalling came from all directions.

Potter groped for his trousers and withdrew his wand, bringing up a wordless charm, and the rest of the world faded away outside their own small room. Potter pointed his wand between them, the usual cleansing and protective spells washing over them, before he pulled himself into a sitting position and manouvered Draco so that he was straddling his thighs. Another murmur and his hand was slick with orange scented oil, and then two fingers were brushing tentatively against Draco’s entrance.

They’d already done this earlier in the morning, after waking up surrounded by the Gryffindor red curtains of Potter’s bed, so it wasn’t long before Draco was pushing Potter’s hand away and shuffling into position. They both let out loud moans as Draco sank onto Potter’s cock, hands gripping the bedsheets over Potter’s shoulders and his knees already aching from where they were pressed into the hardwood floor. He waited a moment, letting himself adjust as Potter stroked soothing circles into the skin on his back, and then he carefully raised himself and dropped back down. Potter shouted and his hands flew to Draco’s hips, gripping tight and helping him lift and fall, thrusting up to meet him with every drop. Their pace was fast and sloppy, both too drunk to work out any sort of rhythm, but it still felt fantastic. Draco could feel Potter getting more and more worked up beneath him and he increased his pace, slamming down onto him as hard as he could.

“Fuck, Draco, you’re so good, so good,” Potter mumbled, reaching up to drag Draco down into a kiss that was more teeth and breath than anything else. “Merlin, I love you, I love you, _Draco_.”

Draco tensed and came hard as Potter spilled inside him, and he grabbed Potter’s face and kissed him hard and deep, not caring that he still hadn’t caught his breath. They slumped together, chests sticky with sweat and Draco’s come as they breathed hard together. They stayed like that until Draco’s knees began to protest against the floor, and he shuffled backwards, Potter slipping out of him with a gentle rush of warm fluid. Potter grabbed his wand again and cast another cleaning charm on them both, and then they crawled onto the bed behind them, not bothering to get under the covers. Their limbs tangled together easily, Potter’s head pillowed on Draco’s chest, Draco absently tracing runes into the slight sheen of sweat still clinging to Potter’s back.

“Did you mean it?” Draco’s voice echoed in the stillness of the air around them.

Potter hummed into Draco’s skin. “Yeah. Yeah, I meant it.”

Draco swallowed, words he wanted to say stuck in his throat. “I -” he managed, but nothing more would come out. Potter patted his stomach, and Draco could feel his lips pull into a smile against him.

“I know, Draco. I know.”

 

* * *

 

Draco grabbed Potter by the wrist and dug his feet into the gravel. “How about we send them an owl instead?” He glanced nervously up at the gates, then fixed a pleading look on Potter. “We could go with Weasley and Granger to Australia and send it from there.”

“Wow. If you’re offering to go on holiday with Ron and Hermione, you must really be freaking out.” Potter gently twisted his arm out of Draco’s grip and turned to face him, reaching up to smooth the fine blond hair behind his ear. “It has to be done, Malfoy. We’ve found the right flat, halfway between the Ministry and your Potions School. We’ve argued about the decoration, we’ve promised Hermione a room for Plinky. We’ve even had a bloody house warming party.” He glanced back at the tall black gates behind him. “It’s time to tell your parents we’re moving in together.”

“But what if they kill you? Even worse, what if they kill _me?_ I just think some distance is advisable, that’s all.” Draco tried not to cringe as the gates sensed the presence of a Malfoy and slowly began to open.

“They’re not going to kill anyone, Malfoy, take a breath, for Merlin’s sake.” Potter grabbed Draco’s hand and linked their fingers together firmly. “Look, they may hate me because they hate my parents, but they love _you,_ and as long as you can convince them that I’m what makes you happy, then they’ll be happy for you.” He narrowed his eyes at Draco. “You can convince them of that, right?”

Draco swallowed. “I think so.”

“Maybe tell them you hate me. You’re a terrible liar; they’ll see through it in a second.”

“Right now I _do_ hate you, Potter.”

“Yeah yeah, tell it to someone who _isn’t_ about to face the parents of the pureblooded boy he’s been defiling on a regular basis.”

“It might be better to _not_ bring up our sex life while we’re within my father’s hexing range, Potter.”

“Good point,” Potter replied, and then the wide front door was swinging open before them. “Lead the way, Malfoy.”

“Draco, darling, whyever didn’t you use the Floo?” Narcissa looked up from her seat in the parlour, her silver blonde hair curling softly over the shoulders of her dark silk robes. “You must have been boiling in your skins walking outside in that heat. I do hope you remembered a suncream charm.”

“Mother,” Draco replied, choosing not to answer her question. Their flat had yet to be hooked up to the Floo Network, which was why they had decided to Apparate to the Manor instead. The flat that his parents had yet to hear about. He reluctantly let go of Potter’s hand so that he could move across the room and kiss his mother on the cheek. “I’ve brought Harry Potter with me to visit.”

“So I see.” Narcissa leaned forward and offered her hand to Potter, who caught it and laid a kiss on her knuckles. Draco was momentarily surprised; he had been fully expecting Potter to grab it and shake it instead. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter. My husband and I were unfortunate enough to miss making your acquaintance during your graduation ceremony.”

“Likewise, Mrs Malfoy,” Potter said, and grinned, probably remembering the way he had fled to the other side of the crowd as soon as he’d realised they’d been rumbled.

“So, Draco, what brings about your visit today?” Narcissa’s eyes darted between her son and Potter, neatly taking note of everything she could see between them.

Draco gulped and looked around the room, and then sighed in resignation as Potter shoved him lightly in the small of his back. “I have news, Mother,” he said, and then rushed on quickly, “But if Father is busy it can wait until another time -”

“Nonsense, darling, your Father is in the garden, I’ll send a house elf to collect him.” Narcissa snapped her fingers, and moments later Lucius swept into the room from the conservatory.

“Draco,” Lucius said, and then his eyes narrowed slightly. “Mr Potter. To what do we owe the pleasure?” He didn’t bother to offer his hand, and instead stood stiff and upright by the fireplace.

“It seems Draco and Mr Potter have some news for us, darling,” Narcissa relayed, and Draco shot her a dark look. She seemed to have guessed that something was up, and was finding the whole thing far too amusing.

Lucius looked sharply at Draco. “Harry and I are moving in together,” he said in a rush, and felt Potter’s hand squeeze his waist in surprised pleasure. The entire room was completely silent for a long moment, until Lucius cut through the quiet with a deadly cold whisper.

“You absolutely are not,” Lucius said, drawing himself up to his full height and brandishing his cane threateningly. “If you want to tie yourself to a Gryffindor, and a _Potter_ at that, then that’s your business, but you will do so with decorum and respect or you will not do it at all! Malfoys do not just _move in_ with people, there is such a thing as propriety, and I will thank you to behave the way your mother and I have raised you to. And if you think -”

Narcissa leaned forwards in her seat as her husband carried on about proper proposals and dowries and engagement lengths and whispered to Draco. “Why don’t you take Mr Potter for a turn in the rose garden, darling? The Crystal Fairy Roses should be in bloom right about now.”

Draco’s hand gripped tight to Potter’s and he pulled him gratefully from the room. He stopped once they hit the conservatory and let out a long breath. “I knew he was going to react like that.”

“Well I didn’t,” Potter whispered back furiously. “I thought he’d object because I’m a boy, or because I’m a halfblood, or because I’m a Potter -”

“Well he did kind of protest on that part.”

“- Not because I hadn’t asked you to marry me first! If I’d known that I could have whipped out a ring and we could have avoided all this.”

A small bubble of what surprisingly felt like hope rose in Draco’s chest. “You would have asked me to marry you?”

Potter tilted his head to the side. “No, probably not.” The bubble sunk. “There’s no way I’d let your bloody father dictate when I propose to you.” The bubble lifted again. “Is it over now, do you think?”

Draco watched Potter sidle closer to the parlour door, a small smile on his lips. Then he cocked his head to listen to what his parents were saying.

“Lucius, really, do you honestly think that they haven’t already done whatever they could get up to while living together?”

“That’s not the point, Narcissa! What are people going to say?”

“That it’s nice when two young men fall in love? Come now, darling, you know the younger generation are doing things differently to how we used to.”

Lucius snorted. “I know you’re not that naive, Narcissa. It’s not love, it’s rebellion. It’s ridiculous behaviour, and it’s going to ruin Draco’s social standing. I will not have it.”

“Lucius Abraxas Malfoy.” Narcissa’s voice had lost the amusement it had previously carried and was now as hard and cold as steel. “”What did we agree upon when we went with Severus to seek Dumbledore?”

“That we would make our future choices based on happiness rather than familial responsibility,” Lucius replied, sounding very sulky.

“Exactly. Now if the Potter boy makes Draco happy, then we shall be happy for them. I don’t expect you to be pleased about it, Lucius, but you will respect it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Narcissa, dear,” Lucius mumbled.

“See?” Potter whispered in Draco’s ear, his breath on his neck making him shiver in anticipation. “Told you.”

 

* * *

 

“What the bloody hell is this?”

Draco looked up from where he sat on their settee, going over his first set of potions notes from the week before. Potter was standing by the window, feeding an owl treat to a huge eagle owl one handed as he looked down at the post he held. He threw a stiff piece of card in Draco’s direction, and it landed in his lap.

_To Mr Draco L Malfoy and Mr Harry J Potter_

_The Minister for Magic is proud to invite you to our 17th Annual Celebration_  
 _of the end of The War That Never Was!_  
 _Please join us for drinks, merriment, and celebration in the Grand Hall, Ministry of Magic,_  
 _at 8.00pm on Saturday, October 31st, and help us give our thanks to_  
 _Severus T Snape, Order of Merlin, 1st Class!_

_Signed: Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic._

“Oh, a ministry event.” Draco looked up at Potter appraisingly. “We’ll need to get you some new robes. There is absolutely nothing in your wardrobe befitting an event such as this.”

“You know I hate it when you try and dress me up in all that crap,” Potter complained, sliding onto the end of the settee and pulling Draco’s feet into his lap. “But I meant, why the hell are we being invited? What have we got to do with the War That Never Was?”

Draco shrugged. “Probably because it’s in honour of my godfather; that does make me pretty much his only family.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Potter pinched Draco’s toe. “We don’t have to go, do we?” He asked hopefully.

“Yes, we do.”

“But why?”

“You just told me not to remind you.”

Potter let out a displeased whine and let his head thunk back against the cushions. “I don’t even get why they celebrate it at all. I mean, it’s called the War That Never Was for a reason, so why celebrate the end of something that never actually happened?”

“Because it could have been a lot worse than it actually was, I imagine.” Draco wriggled his foot until Potter started massaging his ankle. “Do you remember much about it?”

“Not really, I was far too young.” Potter dug his thumb into the ball of Draco’s foot. “I vaguely remember spending a lot of time playing inside with mum, and apparently that was when we had to go into hiding for a while. Everything else I know is just what people have told me, like when dad gets drunk every Christmas and likes to tell the story of when he and Sirius broke into Gringotts and escaped on a dragon.”

Draco laughed. He had heard the story just last Christmas; he didn’t realise it was an annual thing.

“Even now they can’t go into the bank without being frisked. Sirius says it makes Remus jealous; apparently Goblins are very handsy.” Draco shuddered and Potter laughed. “What about you?” He asked, sliding his fingers up under Draco’s trouser leg, massaging the muscle there. “Your family was right in the thick of it too, right?”

Draco shook his head. “I only know what my father told me; that he realised his family would survive better on the right side, and asked Severus to help him defect. He apparently had something in his possession that had been very valuable to the Dark Lord, and he offered it to Dumbledore in return for our protection, and that was that.”

“See what I mean though? My dad makes it out to be much more than it was.” Potter snorted. “He says dragon, but I bet it was just a hippogriff. Why would there even be a dragon in a bank? Can you imagine it?”

“No, but then, I can’t imagine visiting Gringotts myself anyway. We have house elves who do that for us.” Draco reached across to the coffee table and pulled out the newest Twilfit and Tattings brochure. “We’ll take you to get fitted for new robes tomorrow, and then you can take me for lunch. What colour do you think you’d like?”

“Red, and you’re going to owe me two nights down at the pub with Seamus and Ron for this.”

“One night, going out to lunch is hardly a chore, Potter, and there is absolutely no way you’re wearing anything red. I was thinking green.”

“Of course you were, you’re a Slytherin, and it’s two nights, one for the shopping and one for this bloody celebration ball thingy.”

Draco pulled his feet out of Potter’s lap and sat up, swinging a leg over Potter’s so that he was straddling him. “How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?” Potter asked, hands already sliding beneath Draco’s waistband.

Draco leaned down and ran his teeth lightly over the skin just behind Potter’s ear. “You can have three nights down the pub with your friends, but you have to make me come before you.”

“And if you make me come first?” Potter quickly untucked Draco’s shirt and began undoing the buttons, pressing kisses into the skin he revealed.

“No nights down the pub for a month, and I get to take you on a proper shopping trip tomorrow. So, deal?”

“Quick question,” Potter gasped, as Draco drew his t shirt over his head and removed his glasses. “Either way, we’re both getting orgasms right now, right?”

“Of course.”

Potter smirked. “Then it’s a deal, Malfoy.”

And then they both set about giving the other the best sex of their lives.

 

* * *

 

“Well, that was definitely weird, but actually kind of fun.”

Potter brushed the soot from the Floo off his robes as Draco stepped through behind him, turning and setting the wards for the night.

“Hmm,” was all Draco said, concentrating on hanging up his robes.

Potter came up behind him and put his arms around his waist. “Are you okay? You’ve been a bit weird all day.”

Draco nodded and turned in his arms, pressing a kiss against Potter’s temple. “I’m fine. Just glad I’m here, I suppose. That we get to have this.”

Potter laughed lightly. “Wow, you’re really getting into the spirit of the Ball, aren’t you?”

Draco slid his hands into Potter’s hair, watching as the blacks strands sifted through his fingers. “I love you, Harry.”

Potter leaned back. “Did you get into a tray of champagne when I wasn’t looking?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? because you only ever say that kind of thing when you’re either incredibly drunk or I’ve just given you a mind blowing orgasm.” He tilted his head to catch Draco’s eyes. “Seriously, Draco, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, really. It was just the celebration, I suppose it made me think about how different things could have been.” Draco pulled Potter closer, running his hands down his back.

“I don’t know,” Potter said, unbuttoning Draco’s dress shirt as he slowly walked him backwards towards their bedroom, slowly kicking his clothes away as they moved. They were so rarely like this, slow and gentle, the both of them tending to prefer grabby hands and wrestling matches and chasing each other through orgasms. Draco shivered as Potter pressed light fluttery kisses along his jawline. “I don’t think things would have been much different.”

Draco raised an eyebrow incredulously. “You don’t think things would have been different if we’d been fighting for our lives in a war?”

“I didn’t mean that, git. I meant between you and me.”

“You think we’d still have this?” Draco asked, as Potter helped divest him of his trousers and pants and followed him over onto the bed, straddling his hips.

“Yeah, I think so.” He licked a stripe up Draco’s neck and whispered the usual spells between them. “All the different choices in the world would still have eventually brought us here.” He slicked himself up and sank down onto Draco’s length. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Draco’s. “I was always meant to love you, Draco.”

Draco closed his eyes briefly against a memory from another life the words brought back to him. “In this world, and the next, and all the ones in between?”

Potter smiled down at him. “Exactly.”

_And maybe,_ Draco thought, as Harry began to move above him, soft and slow and gentle, _that had been the whole point._

**Author's Note:**

> Note on the sex: Although I tend to imagine most of my m/m pairings as switches, I also usually write any sex scenes with the character I connect with most as the bottom (I’m not sure why that is), which in this pairing is Draco. However, after talking to my brother and his boyfriend, they both agreed that for Harry and Draco’s first time, Harry, being a Gryffindor, would be more likely to give bottoming a try first. I’d be interested to see what anyone thinks of this decision, and whether or not people think I managed it okay?


End file.
